Hetalia: When Will I See You Again?
by Hetaliar
Summary: The war is finally over. The time for the German and the Italian to say goodbye is here. Can Germany remain strong in the face of parting or will Italy's tears convince him to stay?


Hetalia: When Will I See You Again?

The dark grey fighter ship was slowly leaving port as steam was spewed out from the top. The fog horn was echoing in the silence that was lingering and its slow movement forecasted the sad, hard goodbye that awaited the two. The cheery bright sun was not shining today because its light was blocked out by heavy cloud cover. Only a dim light on the horizon let you know that it was early morning time.

Germany and Italy stood facing the dark, open waters that were known as the Mediterranean Sea without speaking or even flinching. It felt as if their legs were lead and couldn't be lifted. The terrible world war was over now but only uncertainty laid in wait. The German and the Italian had been through everything together from good fortune to just scraping by; from happiness to sadness; from potatoes to pasta. But soon, with this goodbye, it would all be over.

The slight breeze was steadily blowing Germany's overcoat and Italy's long curl, only adding to the melancholic moment. Every second seemed like an eternity as the two continued waiting like this until the ship was out of sight. Their arms felt limp and their hearts were aching as they tried to find the words to speak. There was so much they needed to tell the other. The salty smell in the air filled their nostrils and seemed to be the only thing affecting their numb senses.

Their long alliance was now over, so what was keeping him there, Germany wondered at his motionless self. He had always looked forward to this day when he could say farewell to that useless hindrance of a man, but now that it was here, he couldn't budge or bear the thought of parting. Italy had grown on him, he realized, and after everything was said and done, he was a solace in troubled times. His pride had gotten in the way at all the times he yelled at Italy instead of patting him on the back or offering him a kind word when he needed it most. He felt guilty. What did Italy think of him after all this time? He had to say something now to make up for it – this was his last chance after all.

"Well, I guess it's about time," Germany said with a hint of regret in his voice.

"Yeah," Italy agreed in the same somber tone. "We won't be able to see each other for, like…ever."

"Ja," was all Germany could say.

"This is kind of bringing up a lot of old memories, you know?" Italy's voice was breaking up.

After a moment, Germany was still only able to say, "Ja."

Finally the blue-uniformed Italian turned to face his former comrade-in-arms and said in an attempt to break the silence. "Hey, Germany…do you remember this one time…?"

Germany slowly turned his head to look at his best friend, well, the only real friend he ever had. He wanted to hear what his reminiscing words would be after all this time and wished to offer some in return.

"How could you forget?" Italy smiled softly and looked up into the sky, remembering the moments they had shared. He glanced back at Germany and said with a bit of laughter in his sad voice, "We were so out of the control."

* * *

Italy had asked permission to use Germany's kitchen to make pasta and, reluctantly, Germany agreed in a warning not to make a mess. All the while that Italy was creating his meal, Germany was scrubbing the specs and food from the counter after his usage. Germany was getting more fervent, excessive, and annoyed about cleaning as the cooking process and mess continued. Finally, when Italy was boiling the ingredients together, he noticed that Germany was frantically rubbing the counter top with a white cloth and disinfectant. He was depressed at the thought of this, but Germany realized that Italy was looking down at him and that he was being too demanding on the Italian. He put his hand up apologetically and said, "Don't mind me, please continue." Italy was heartbroken.

* * *

"Why is THAT what you remember?!" Germany shouted at his terrified friend. Out of all the memories he could have brought up, why would he remember something as trivial as that? It was just an ordinary, insignificant thing that happened. It had no value and was unimportant – it was simply…trivial.

"I don't know!" Italy confessed in a scream, a bit from fear and Germany's sudden outburst.

HETALIA

Germany and Italy went back into silence-mode and continued staring at the sea as the shallow waves moved up and down without distraction them. This motion of life was just something that always happened, the waves were just performing a natural phenomenon. Just like their lives together has been. There were ups and downs, but living and fighting together as brothers was just something they both got used to without giving it much thought.

"Germany…" Italy tried to coax his friend to memories again. He smiled gently as he glanced over to meet his friend's eyes. "What about that time…"

* * *

Italy had overheard Germany talking to his boss about making an alliance with Russia. Italy was afraid that Germany would prefer Russia over him because he was more serious and not clumsy. He started to panic, but didn't want to confront Germany with his concern because he didn't want to know that truth. Italy was in such a bad state that he resorted to calling his big brother, France, who suggested that Italy write his feelings down on paper so he wouldn't mess up or have to face the Germany's tough scrutinizing. After following his advice, Italy was too scared to give the letter directly to Germany and accidently dropped it on the floor, running away.

Japan had found the note while cleaning up and wasn't sure what the scribbles meant, but knew it was from Italy. He presented it to Germany who read it.

Dear Germany,

It's your friend, Italy. I had a really scary dream last night and I don't want it to come true. I dreamt you stopped being my BFF because Russia was cooler and less like…well, me.

Your Friend Forever,

Italy Veneziano

PS: those sausages you left outside taste really bad

After reading the letter and looking past some spelling errors, Germany said, "It's from Italy, he's freaking out again."

"What, you mean he is actually literate?" Japan was surprised.

Germany had to ask Japan what 'BFF' meant and upon hearing the reply felt awkward. He was someone's best friend…forever?

While keeping the letter in mind, Germany was boiling something in water over the stove. It was the best sausage his country had to offer – that other stuff Italy complained about was just simple food. This was to be his gift of sympathy.

Italy was sitting alone outside on a tree stomp, caressing the cat, Pooky, and was thinking to himself somberly. Germany saw him sitting there and sighed.

"Hello, Italy?" he called to the spacy Italy and he jumped up out of surprise. "I wanted to speak with you for one minute, if that's ok…" Germany looked away, trying to find the right words. "Uhrm, I just want to say…Russia will not be interfering with our friendship." He looked down and said, feeling a bit silly. "So we can be best friends forever…"

The nervous Italy got up quickly, concern replaced by gladness. "Wow, how cool! I didn't know that you were telepathetic!" He got the word wrong, but Germany knew what he meant.

"Yeeeaaah." Germany said with a small step back. "That and I read 'idiot.'" But for some reason, he felt that there needed to be more to his 'apology,' because Italy probably wasn't taking him seriously, he thought. He wouldn't take someone seriously if they used 'BFF' in a sentence. "Anyway, I will swear this oath to you if you like." He wanted to prove that he was sincere.

"Yeah! Pinky swear!" Italy extended his thin pinky towards Germany to take it to seal their promise.

Italy was very sincere. Germany wasn't good at this kind of thing; apologies and friendship were a foreign concept to him, yet he found himself admitting to both at that moment. It felt awkward to him and he couldn't help but wonder how it came to the Italian so naturally.

"Ja…" With a trembling hand that already regretted this moment, Germany reached out his pinky and locked it into Italy's. A rough black glove against a smooth white hand stood out in the blue background of the sky.

Releasing the finger-lock, Germany attempted to continue his apology. Italy stared at his own pinky that was still extended, but close to his body now. It felt warm from Germany's touch and was feeling tingly from happiness (or was it that Germany had gripped it so tight that the blood flow to his finger had stopped). He stared at it silently, but his head lifted in a bright smile. Germany had acknowledged him on an equal level and this was his first time anyone had taken him seriously. It made his heart 'yay'!

* * *

Italy's happy stare awaited an answer from his former charge, but Germany's blue eyes couldn't hold. Germany felt great sadness overcome him as he glanced off to the side. "Why is that…what you remember…?" He felt that occurrence was the turning point in their alliance – what had made them progress from toleration to actually caring and paying special attention to one another. He couldn't admit it, but that was a special moment that he could never forget, even if at the time it was full of uncertainty.

"But it's one of my favorite memories…" Italy lip started to twitch.

Germany's boss called from further down the dock, "Germany! Seriously! It is time for us to go!"

"Yes, sir, I- I'm coming!" Germany answered his boss's order quickly, but it had broken his train of thought. Why did it have to come at a time like this? He looked back at Italy. "I have to go now."

Italy started to sniffle and his shoulders were moving up and down as if he was about to have a meltdown. "Ge…Ger…man…y…" He managed to get out through the tears. "I don't…want to go…home."

_How can he not want to leave me_? Germany thought, the reality of the situation finally settling in. _I've always been strict and a bummer to his plans…I…I was so cruel to him sometimes…I was an impassive jerk, even, to his happy parade…_His thoughts shifted. _I…did everything for him…I protected… and guarded…a-and…I_…_he's my…only_… Germany couldn't cry. He had to be strong and let Italy remember him that way. He held back tears and didn't want to admit his weakness.

Italy couldn't stand the looming silence anymore and dropped to his knees, embracing Germany desperately, clutching his shirt. "GERMANY! Don't leave me here!"

Germany bent down and caressed Italy's head as soft as his hard hands would allow. "Italy…" He embraced Italy in a tight hug. His body just moved on its own and he didn't give it any thought. Italy's head sunk into Germany's shoulder and it muffled his sobbing. This German was the only man, no matter what anyone else thought about him or what sins he had committed in the war, whom he called his best friend. Germany was his home and he would feel an empty hole in his heart if they parted. They had been through everything together. WWI and WWII and more than thirty years of their country's life were spent together. It was ripping him apart that it was finally at an end.

Germany lifted Italy's chin and wiped some of the tears from his face with his thumb, smiling for the sake of his friend, "I never thought tears belonged in those cheery eyes of yours," he said, "you must smile, Italy. You must be strong. You are finally on your own now and you can be your own man without anyone telling you what to do or how to live. I know it's hard, but I also know that it is a goal you can achieve. You've surprised me many times, Italy, so don't let me down now. I wish to remember the happy Italy…I wish to hold in my memory your smiling face because it will be a comfort and help me to adjust to the normal life of a civilian." Germany grew up surrounded by bloodshed and war, the only thing he's know was the life of a soldier…that is until he met Italy. And now he felt like it was alright to display other emotions besides that of anger. He could smile and laugh like a normal person…like Italy.

Germany got up forcefully and turned away, knowing that the longer this goodbye was prolonged the more difficult it would be. He walked away briskly before his grief had a chance to convince him to stay. He couldn't second guess this choice. He heard Italy calling to him desperately, still paralyzed on his knees and hurt from being pushed away – he couldn't move from that spot though his whole heart was leaving with that German.

Germany couldn't look back, he had no time to regret and had to keep moving forward. Suddenly, in the crispy air, he felt something warm and wet slide down his cheek. It was a tear. This tough soldier had not cried for the whole entirety of the war, even in the most troubling of times. He rarely even cried in his youth, knowing that he was always setting an example to watchful eyes of superiors or family members. His hand went up to his face and lingered there on the wet spot where the tear had stopped. He stopped walking. _Human emotions are a hindrance_, he thought as more tears began to flow uncontrollably. He didn't know why he couldn't stop, but it almost felt as if all the years he stored it up, the water had finally broken the flood gates on the dam and was no ravishing the town below. He stood a moment in silent sobs, but then wiped his eyes. He turned back and waved to Italy with a smile, trying to let him know that it was alright. "Italy!" He called as he continued waving, "I will visit you soon. This is not goodbye! That's a promise, meine freund!"

Italy's sorrowful tears were replaced with a sense of satisfaction and he was able to smile also. He managed to stand and waved back at Germany. "Si! I look forward to that day! And I'll make pasta to celebrate, alright?"

"Sounds good," Germany replied. "We'll have beer too!" His boss had to grab him by the arm to get him to continue walking – he was one mean guy even after the war.

* * *

Poem.

Please don't leave, I don't want you to go

Without you my heart is frost and snow

No song or joke can penetrate my longing

Because it's you whose safe arms I belong in

When will I see you again?

* * *

I smile because you want me to

You're strong because you must be

The only sound we hear

is quiet waves of the deep and shallow sea

When will I see you again?

* * *

The moment arrives

There's no way to hide

What about a kiss to seal our goodbye?

I want to see you again.

* * *

As you walk away my heart will not 'yay'

I get on my knees and silently pray

'I want to see you again.'

* * *

Let's not say goodbye forever

I can't bear the thought

'I will see you soon' I say as we part

Why is goodbye so hard to endeavor?

* * *

**This short story and poem are based off the song "Don't You Remember" by Adele. **

**Here are the lyrics: **

_**When will I see you again? You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said. No final kiss to seal anything. I had no idea of the state we were in. I know I have a fickle heart, and a bitterness, and a wondering eye, and a heaviness in my head. But don't you remember? Don't you remember? The reason you loved me before. Baby, please remember me once more. **_

_**When was the last time you thought of me? Or have you completely erased me from you memory? I often think about where I went wrong. The more I do, the less I know. But I know I have a fickle heart, and a bitterness, and a wondering eye, and a heaviness in my head. But don't you remember? Don't you remember? The reason you loved me before. Baby, please remember me once more.**_

_**I gave you the space so you could breath, kept my distance so you would be free. And hoped that you'd find the missing piece to bring you back to me. Why don't you remember? Don't you remember? The reason you loved me before. Baby, please remember me once more.**_

_**When will I see you again?**_

* * *

**I don't own Hetalia or Adele, obviously, I just wanted to include this song.**


End file.
